


Queen of Queens

by VidalinaV



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, contains spoilers, post acosf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidalinaV/pseuds/VidalinaV
Summary: Summary: A post-ACOSF fic; starts in the weeks between the ending and the mating ceremony and then goes beyond. (Obviously contains spoilers)
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Queen of Queens

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Studio Ghibli aspect of this book, so I’m going to try and stick with it, which means that some chapters, especially in the beginning will feel like one-shots but they’re not. They all connect eventually to the main plot which is Koschei, Nesta’s power, the Mother, the Autumn Court, fate and so on and so forth. I got two years to finish this. So we’ll see how it goes. 
> 
> Updates right now will be every other Sunday (unless I just feel like updating) But you can refer to these dates. If there’s something deeply you want to see let me know and I might be able to do something about it.

Prologue: 

* * *

Sometimes when Nesta closed her eyes, with the hum of Cassian’s breathing rumbling down her back, the darkness took her quickly. Other times, she’d have to count, her mind like feet racing to climb the staircase of the House of Wind. One step after another. 200. 500. 700 and up again… except she could never reach the bottom and she could never get to the top. The stairs would crumble before her, her handprint still firmly burnt into the stone as night swallowed each step.

Nesta didn’t dream often anymore, a testament to how far she’d come…

But on night’s like these, Nesta _dreamed_.

On night’s like these Nesta had a hard time even closing her eyes. But sleep always took her eventually. A thief in the night. A small death to the ever-present life she’d be afforded in the morning. Nesta hoped she’d make it to the morning… because sometimes she couldn’t tell.

Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she was already floating in that darkness. The moon beamed down at her, one single eye blinking as she blinked, letting that darkness ripple with light as if she were setting out to sea. She might have had a lantern in her hands, or maybe she was carrying the moon itself. She could never tell… or maybe Nesta just couldn’t remember. All of the details becoming foggy like the mist that surrounded her.

The worst part of her dream always came to her unexpectedly, which always seemed off to her for it was always the same dream…

Nesta would look around her, peer out into that wide open space of a glittering, black sea and the boat would start to shake. She was in a raft, she thought, or a canoe, or… perhaps she was floating on her back. But hands would reach up from the night. It would grab on to her boat—her canoe—her raft. The hands would grip the nightgown of her dress, whichever one she was wearing that night. This night, a pale blue with lace at the sleeves.

And the hands would pull her under.

Pull and pull and _pull_.

Until it didn’t matter if she was in the cauldron or the sea. It only mattered that she was drowning.

Nesta liked to say she fought against the tide, kicked and screamed and did whatever else she’d learned in training. But truthfully, she never fought that hard. Not after all this time. Truthfully, she was tired of fighting.

Instead, she would let it pull her and she would let herself sink. Let herself breath. Three… six… nine… She never made it to ten… _Ten_ is when Nesta started to scream.

Perhaps not aloud, since Cassian never woke her and she seldom ever seen him wide eyed when she woke up panting.

But Nesta screamed, and the hands still ravaged, and she still sank, and she still didn’t fight back… And just when Nesta thought she wouldn’t make it to the morning, a golden hand would reach out from above.

A golden hand would cease the screaming, would grab a hold of her own, outstretched, waiting for the inevitable burning that always came, and a sweet voice, a feminine, soft voice would ring in her ears until her eyes drifted open.

Nesta would never forget the words—the details of the dream, maybe—but not the words that came on harp strings and trumpets roaring.

_Oh no_ , she’d never forget what the voice called out, and Nesta would start asking questions to match that answer she’d received. She thought she should’ve known what it was.

_Would she die today?_

_Would the cauldron come calling to claim the rest of its power?_

_Would they be plunged into another war?_

_Would someone steal the trove out from under them?_

_Would they finally realize she was as scared as before?_

_Would she go back into that city today and become who she always was?_

_Would they…_

_Would she…_

_Would someone…_

And, Nesta would drift back to sleep with all these questions floating in the space between dreams. The darkness claiming her once more until she woke up, Cassian beside her asking her how she slept.

She never gave him a response, only kissed him, snuggled closer, ridding her skin from that horrifying cold with the warmth of his body.

But still… Nesta could never forget the words.

_Not yet,_ the voice would sing.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I wrote this in a weird way but my writing style changes constantly, and this creepy dream-like stream of consciousness sort of thing came out, so we’ll see if that stays or not. Or even if you thought that. 
> 
> Hopefully you did not hate this prologue, but next chapter is wayyyy different anyways. So we’ll get into it. 
> 
> Next chapter: Letters and Ink  
> Summary: Something spells disaster when Nesta causes an accidental raucous at the library and she learns that perhaps she has more power than she realizes. 
> 
> Tumblr: VidalinaV


End file.
